


Detention

by AryaNoName (merrymegtargaryen)



Series: Westeros Academy [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, westeros academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 03:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/AryaNoName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested by anonymous: "could you do another westeros academy fanfic please? like maybe an interaction between troublemaking student Arya and her detention administrator, Mr. Sandor Clegane?"</p>
<p>Ask, and you shall receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention

“All right,” growled Sandor Clegane, Westeros Academy’s caretaker and nicknamed “the Hound” by the students. “We’re gonna pick up every single fucking piece of trash out here.”

“Are you allowed to use inappropriate language around students?” Arya, the Hound’s latest detention victim, asked snottily.

“You’re in detention; I’m allowed to use whatever fucking language I want,” he snapped in her face.

Arya rolled her eyes and wandered around the yard, picking up cigarette butts and wrappers and other pieces of trash and throwing them in her trashbag. “This just seems like cruel and unusual punishment,” she complained as she disposed of a used condom. “I thought detention was supposed to be in a classroom.”

“I heard the last time you had a classroom detention you set off the fire alarm,” the Hound reminded her. “Your dad figured this would be more of a punishment.”

“But I like being outside.”

“Stop talking.”

They picked up trash in silence for a few minutes. 

“Do you like kids?”

The Hound growled again. “I hate ‘em. Especially loud ones who don’t know when to stop talking.”

Undeterred, Arya prompted, “If you hate kids, why do you work at a school?” 

“’Cause there’s benefits to working at a school. Especially a poncy little boarding school like this one.”

“What kind of benefits?” she pressed.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he snapped.

“No,” Arya answered seriously.

The Hound made a noise of frustration. “This pays better than anything else I’m qualified for. And before you ask what I’m qualified for, it’s not a lot. I’ll retire well.”

Arya considered this. “What do you want to do when you retire?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you.”

“You’ll use the word ‘fuck’ around me but you won’t tell me what you want to do when you retire?” Arya asked with not a little skepticism.

“Watch your mouth,” the Hound barked. 

“Fuckity-fuck-fuck-bugger-fuck-fuck,” Arya rattled off.

“Stark…” he growled, moving towards her.

The twelve-year-old danced out of his reach and hastily returned to picking up garbage. She thought the conversation over, until she heard the Hound mutter, “Lys.”

Arya glanced up at him. “What?”

“Lys,” he repeated, louder. “When I retire, I want to go to Lys. Drink my weight in whiskey and get in bar fights and pass out in the middle of the street.”

“So you want to be in college, is what I’m gathering.”

“The fuck do you know about college?” 

“That’s what my Uncle Edmure did when he was in college,” she denounced in a very worldly tone for a seventh-grader.

The Hound grunted. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to college.”

“I don’t know if I want to go to college,” Arya confided. “What would you have done, if you had gone?”

He scowled at her. “What do you mean, what would I have done?”

“I mean, if you could have gone to college for anything and you could do that job right now. What would it be?”

He was quiet for so long that Arya thought he was ignoring her. She huffed and went back to picking up trash when she heard it.

“A special agent,” he said, embarrassment hiding behind the gruffness. 

Arya didn’t laugh. “You could still be a special agent,” she said kindly.

He didn’t smile at her but he wasn’t exactly frowning, either, which Arya considered progress. “Can’t. My criminal record is a bit…full.”

“Clint Barton was a criminal, and he still became a special agent,” Arya said instantly.

“Who the fuck is Clint Barton?”

“Hawkeye.”

“A hot guy?” the Hound repeated, bewildered.

“Hawkeye. You know, like the Avengers?”

“Do I bloody well look like I have superpowers?” the Hound snapped.

“Hawkeye didn’t have superpowers either, he was just trained in archery by a master,” Arya persisted. 

“Yeah, well, I doubt Hot Guy ever killed a man.”

Arya’s eyes bugged out and her mouth fell open. The Hound half-expected her to correct his pronunciation of Hawkeye, but she remained mercifully silent for the next ten minutes. When she wasn’t looking, the Hound smirked.

“So what’d you do to get in detention this time?” he asked when he got bored of the silence.

The twelve-year-old drooped in sullenness. “Nothing. I was trying to break into Big Walder and Little Walder’s room and put itching powder all over their clothes, but Littlefin—I mean, Mr. Baelish, caught me.”

“Why the fuck were you trying to do a stupid thing like that?” the Hound wanted to know.

She muttered something indistinguishable.

“What?” 

Louder, she said, “They told me to go to the kitchen and make them a sandwich.”

The Hound’s eyes narrowed. “Come with me.”

.

Big Walder and Little Walder Frey were excused from class because of the sudden rash they had in first period. As they walked down the hallway, scratching furiously, Arya skipped past them. The Hound, who was fixing a doorknob, held out his hand; Arya high-fived it happily before skipping on down to the bathroom. 

The Hound smiled.

(But only for a second.)


End file.
